


Where the Gods Can't Reach Us

by NotYourAverageVampire



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood and Gore, Fun with time travel, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:20:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21565216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotYourAverageVampire/pseuds/NotYourAverageVampire
Summary: Sothis always told Byleth to use her time-hopping powers to save those she cared about. So she does. A lot. An alternate version of Verdant Wind/Crimson Flower that kind of falls somewhere in the middle of the two. Enjoy!
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir & Dorothea Arnault
Kudos: 15





	Where the Gods Can't Reach Us

**Author's Note:**

> Heyy it's me, back on my BS again
> 
> Here's a story about things Byleth could have done in one or both of these routes. It's short but I thought it would be fun and different!
> 
> Lots-o-blood. You have been warned.

Ladislava was dead. Acheron was dead. Bertram, Louis, Conner, Jermaine - all of them gone in one quick sweep of the bridge by the most dreadfully familiar foe he'd ever faced. Much like the light in his life, the light of day was slipping from the skies above. He'd managed to hide out by one of the Great Bridge's parapets as the enemy edged closer. A strike team of mages - Lysithea, Dorothea, and Byleth herself, if he'd remembered correctly - took out the brave comrades around him, backing off only when they saw the dying sun's reflection on his own spearhead. 

He'd gone five whole years mostly unscathed, losing a friend here and there to assaults by pro-church forces. But he reasoned this was the reality of war. Friends one day - enemies the next. He looked fondly on his school days but knew that both sides had experienced such immeasurable loss that there was no way things could ever return to the same-old. 

The women turned a corner and disappeared to the bridge's main drag, where Ladislava's body still lay bloodied. He could not measure her life against Byleth's, or Dorothea's, or Bernadetta's, or Petra's - they were different people with different stories, different smiles, different favorite flavors of tea. All of them seemed willing to cut the others down in the name of "peace."

"Peace." What a funny word to think of at a time like this, when former classmates slashed each other's throats without fear. Even after her "holy transformation," Byleth never hinted at anything resembling emotion. She certainly didn't show it when she set Acheron ablaze as Claude, Hilda, and Shamir riddled Ladislava with arrows. 

And now Ferdinand von Aeigr, son of the former Adrestian Prime Minister, remained the bridge's sole protector. He decided he would be its greatest.

With a deep breath and a sharp tug on his horse's reigns, he shouted to whoever would hear, "After this battle, I will be known far and wide as the legendary Ferdinand of Adrestia!"

He charged onto the bridge as quickly as his steed would carry him, knowing full well that death waited for him on the other side, but unsure what form it would take.

As predicted, he encountered the trio of mages first. Byleth and Lysithea had their spell-books at the ready, while Dorothea kept hers to her side and seemed on the verge of tears. He warmed, just a little bit, to think that at least one of his old friends still had a heart in there. She whispered something to Byleth and he tried to make out the words through her lips. Something about only attacking if he attacked first. A useful thing to know. Before Byleth or Lysithea could move forward Dorothea stepped out in front of them. A distraction? A message? 

A scream.

The pain was so quick and indescribable, it was a wonder he had any time at all to look down at the arrow that had pierced right through his neck. In his disbelief, he reached for the back of his neck to feel the bloodied blade on the other side. When did his hands turn red? When did the ground feel so cold? The red pool stained his hair and his clothes and his face. He couldn't breathe anymore and his vision was fading. Seconds felt like hours until he knew for certain this would be it - the last time he'd close his eyes. And just as he did it, he felt someone take his hand in hers, reach out to pet his head, and sob like nothing he'd ever heard.

"FERDIE!" Dorothea shrieked, her friend's soaked remains dirtying her dress and shoes. Byleth felt a pit in her chest like no other, watching the singer kneel beside the knight, singing him to sleep with off-key notes tainted by her sadness. 

"Claude..."

Byleth looked up to the Barbarossa, who slung Failnaught over his shoulder and looked away. 

"I did what I had to do," he replied, each word shakier than the last. "We've won the bridge. Let's go."

Byleth closed her eyes, painting her own mind with Sothis's old words. If those monstrous fellows weren't about - and she doubted that they were - she could do something to save Ferdinand. Up to this point she'd only used it to rescue those under her tutelage, but... 

With a deep breath and a sharp tug on his horse's reigns, he shouted to whoever would hear, "After this battle, I will be known far and wide as the legendary Ferdinand of Adrestia!"

He charged onto the bridge as quickly as his steed would carry him, knowing full well that death waited for him on the other side, but unsure what form it would take.

As predicted, he encountered the trio of mages first. Byleth and Lysithea had their spell-books at the ready, while Dorothea kept hers to her side and seemed on the verge of tears. He warmed, just a little bit, to think that at least one of his old friends still had a heart in there. She whispered something to Byleth and he tried to make out the words through her lips. Something about only attacking if he attacked first. A useful thing to know. Before Byleth or Lysithea could move forward Dorothea stepped out in front of them. A distraction? A message? 

"DUCK!!!!" Byleth screamed with every ounce of energy she had.

The arrow nearly scraped the top of his head and, coincidentally, impaled Ladislava's corpse behind him - right through the neck. 

"Claude!"

Byleth looked up and glared at the Barbarossa, who slung Failnaught over his shoulder.

"I was just doing what I had to do," he replied, his voiced mixed with the kind of sarcasm he only displayed when he knew he almost royally screwed up. 

Ferdinand scratched his head and scanned the ragtag group of Alliance buddies for as many familiar faces as he could find. To his surprise, there were quite a few of them.

"I suppose you're not just going to let me ride back to Lady Edelgard and tell her what happened, right?"

"We're friendly, but we're not _that_ friendly," Dorothea cut in.

Most of the group looked to Claude, still flying about, as he rested his hands behind his head. 

"What? We've won the bridge, let's go!"

For a moment, Ferdinand saw his opening. While the group was laughing at the expense of both him and his dead friends, he contemplated running through the small crowd and cutting down whoever he saw fit in a move that would have made Hubert proud. But then he saw Dorothea's smiling face, her instant trust, her outstretched hand, and he knew he was meant to be captured.

He also couldn't shake the feeling that things could have been much, much worse.


End file.
